Guides are not particularly numerous in England. Even in the
places most frequented by the sightseer they do not abound in any
profusion. At Madame Tussaud's, for example, we found only one
guide. We encountered him just after we had spent a mournful five
minutes in contemplation of ex-President Taft. Friends and
acquaintances of Mr. Taft will be shocked to note the great change
in him when they see him here in wax. He does not weigh so much
as he used to weigh by at least one hundred and fifty pounds; he
has lost considerable height too; his hair has turned another color
and his eyes also; his mustache is not a close fit any more, either;
and he is wearing a suit of English-made clothes.
On leaving the sadly altered form of our former Chief Executive
we descended a flight of stone steps leading to the Chamber of
Horrors. This department was quite crowded with parents escorting
their children about. Like America, England appears to be well
stocked with parents who make a custom of taking their young and
susceptible offspring to places where the young ones stand a good
chance of being scared into connipshun fits. The official guide
was in the Chamber of Horrors. He was piloting a large group of
visitors about, but as soon as he saw our smaller party he left
them and came directly to us; for they were Scotch and we were
Americans, citizens of the happy land where tips come from.
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